


Proof of Loyalty

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, Oral, Romance, Slash, exhibition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave didn't worry about many things. Not being stranded on Earth, or when the Autobots destroyed his body -twice! But approaching Megatron this time was not something he was looking forward to... not when it involved a certain Autobot. Sticky, oral</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of Loyalty

**Originally posted on FF.net**

Soundwave knew this day would have to come eventually.

The ideal of slipping off into some distance place within the galaxy was fanciful; in reality, the life of a Decepticon was a restrictive one. There were only so many places one could go and be relatively safe. Most of those planets were Decepticon owned, unfortunately.

Logically, Soundwave knew that he would have to enter once more back into Megatron's fold. That, he did not mind so much. The older mech had after all created him, and the warlord did live by a supreme standard of life that the communications mech admired and wanted. The Autobots were foolish for trying to deny that sort of revolution from coming about; Megatron would eventually win, of that Soundwave was certain, and the universe would be better because of it.

But that was the very problem the blue mech faced now as he contemplated rejoining the Decepticon Lord's ranks.

**xxXxXxx**

The hallways were dark and cool, long shadows climbing up the hexagonal walls and increasing the gloom. Dim pot lights offered the only source of illumination in the otherwise pitch-black corridor; still, it was hardly enough to see more than five meters before one's faceplates. Soundwave marched down these hallways now, shoulders stiff and helm held high. He could not let anyone see his worry, or else they would tear him apart for it.

His partner though, was not so obligated to hide any of his emotions before these unknown 'bots.

Tracks held his helm as high as he could, but concern was vibrant in his blue optics and his wings were raised behind his back, shivering with unsuppressed tension. Even as they walked, the Autobot stood closely by the communications mech's side, servo clasping the Decepticon's wrist tightly in fear. This was the ship of nightmares to the Autobot faction, and it was no surprise that being in its belly did nothing for the terror growing within the multi-coloured 'bot's spark.

But these were things that Soundwave could do not change.

If he wanted to be able to remain with Tracks, then he would need to find a place where each of them could live well enough. Earth was not that place; the planets that might offer such comfort to a Cybertronian were far from here. The Autobots would sooner throw one of their own and the communications officer into the stockades before giving them a ride to one of the Neutral planets. The Decepticons then, were their only choice for escaping that organic-infested rock. Which was why they were here now, walking down dimly-lit hallways, heading towards the ship's command deck -and Megatron.

"So it's true then," came a cold drawl. The shadows parted, and Blitzwing stepped into the light. A stack of datapads were held loosely in the triple-changer's arms, but his optics were fixed firmly on the Autobot civilian. "You have indeed caught yourself an Autobot slave."

This must of been 'Icy'. Soundwave, having been young and twice dismantled by the Earth's Autobot team, had never before met the rest of Megatron's crew. Oh, he had downloaded profiles on each of the Decepticons during his attempts to brainwash Optimus and his friends into joining the opposite faction, but those were poor substitutes for the real thing. Blitzwing, as he recalled in the file, seemed to have three different processors -one hesitated to say sparks- coexisting within one frame. Because of the wide variety of personalities each three sides of the triple-changer possessed, 'bots had taken it upon themselves to give each one its own nickname. Icy was the more frigid, cruel and calculative one.

"Such a poor excuse for a prisoner!," the tan and purple mech snapped irritably, faceplates whirling about to reveal a new set altogether. This one wore a red visor across the optics, similar to Soundwave, with softer, red cheekplates and a gap-toothed set of denta. "Such an ugly alt-mode. A grounder with wings; the idea is absolutely stupid!"

Tracks stiffened at the insult, servos flying to his hips as he looked up at the taller Decepticon haughtily. "As if you have any right to criticize me. You're the one going about as the bastardization of a tank and jet, you half-node!," the Autobot retaliated.

Soundwave couldn't quell the smirk that came to his lip components at the multi-coloured mech's bravery. Still, getting into a fight with the triple-changer out in the corridor was not on his list of things to do that orn; he would certainly tear Blitzwing apart if he even dared to lay a servo on Tracks. Defense or not, surely it would gain him no favours with Lord Megatron if he started fights with his other soldiers.

His amusement must of been apparent though, because Tracks caught the Decepticon's glance from the corner of his optics, and the Autobot visibly relaxed some. Taking the opportunity, the communications officer reached out and guided the corvette to walk ahead of him. Blitzwing silently watched as the two went on ahead, faceplates having already switched to a completely black one with a red, jagged smile.

"Ooooh," Random cooed, wings fluttering behind him. "I like that one~"

**xxXxXxx**

The rest of the journey to Megatron's throne room was thankfully uneventful. Soundwave, oddly more confident this time, felt some of his worry return to him as he approached the command deck's door. Tracks, behind him once again, was stiff a second time. No doubt the Autobot had lost any of his bravado as well, realizing that he was going to be standing before the evil tyrant very shortly. Soundwave though could offer no comfort; he raised a servo, silently keying the doors open, before entering.

Only a few were on deck at his moment in time.

Starscream, amazingly accepted back into the Decepticon fold, stood at the side of Megatron's throne; looking utterly bored. Blackarachnia and the female jet clone, Slipstream, were at the controls, doing their duties for that cycle. At the blue mech's entrance, all helms turned to the doorway, silence falling over the hushed command deck. Even Megatron was looking at Soundwave -or, more specifically, Tracks.

"Leave us," the warlord intoned to the two femmes. Blackarachnia and Slipstream rose to their pedes, quietly exiting from the control room. Starscream leaned against Megatron's seat presumptuously, a wicked grin fixed to his faceplates.

"Now what do we have here?," he drawled, vocalizer filled with dark amusement.

"Silence, Starscream," Megatron ordered. The helicopter leaned his helm forward in what appeared to be a gesture of contemplation to the two mechs, shifting so that his fusion cannon was folded neatly across his lap. The show of force was not necessary: everyone here feared the Decepticon in one way or another. "Rumours whisper that you wish to return to me, Soundwave," the tyrant began.

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron," the communications officer was quick to reply. He bowed to the warlord, slowly lifting his helm again. "Allegiance: rests with the Decepticons and their commander."

"And thus to me," the older mech smirked. "A soldier is always welcome to return Soundwave, especially one as dedicated to our cause such as yourself. But that is not what has me curious. No... indeed, it is the _guest_ that you bring that I am much more interested in."

Soundwave warily glanced back at Tracks. He knew that Megatron would demand to know about the Autobot's reason for being here, but the mech had hoped all the same it was an inquiry he could avoid. "Designation: Tracks," the smaller Decepticon replied. "Status: Autobot civilian. Stranded on earth through space-bridge malfunction."

"That doesn't answer the question though," Starscream cut in nastily. "Just why did you bring an Autobot here, Soundwave. If he had any valuable information to offer, surely you would have stripped him of it already and then offlined the useless fragger. So then, there lies to reason that his presence is for something else."

Megatron did not interrupt his traitorous second-in-command, merely glaring coolly at the jet from the corner of his optics as he let the flyer speak his piece. When Starscream was finished though, the warlord was returning his attention back to the two mechs standing before him. "He is right, Soundwave. An Autobot is useless to us, so why did you bring him aboard?," the Decepticon asked.

The communications officer was silent. His processor raced to find a suitable answer to offer Megatron, but nothing came to mind. As the silence dragged on, Megatron's frown began to increase, while Starscream's smirk grew.

"I think he's a little beholden to the scruffy ground-thumper," the jet snickered cruelly to Megatron. He made sure his words were heard clearly by everyone present. "Look at that sorry excuse of an Autobot. Honestly... like sparklings sticking pieces of shrapnel to their backstruts and pretending they can fly. _How pathetic_."

"What's _pathetic_ ," Tracks drawled heatedly, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Is how jealous you are. No need to be so envious that my wings are much more pristine then yours, darling."

"Autobot scum," Starscream snarled. "How dare you speak to me like that! You will remember your place, and just before whom you stand. Such insolence has not been tolerated by mechs more worthier than your sad skidplate."

"At least I can look my stature. I've not seen such grime and tear on a 'bot since glimpsing those infested holes organics call sewers!," Tracks shot back.

The SIC stepped forward, servos clenched tightly at his sides. "Why you-"

The roar of laser fire cut off any further insults that would have come from the jet. Quaking lightly, Tracks quickly fell back behind Soundwave; Starscream, on Megatron's left, merely grunted in anger, turning his helm in the other direction. The warlord did not spare either mechs a glance, resting his cooling fusion cannon across his lap again and staring resolutely at Soundwave.

"He's mouthy," Megatron noted blandly. "Not the accent of a Towers 'bot, but close. More than just a civilian, Soundwave, you have brought a very reputable Autobot into the Nemesis. How can you be certain he isn't a spy?"

"Negative," the communications officer said. "Autobot has no Academy training, warrior status, or Elite Guard contacts. Validation: Downloaded files clear of any evidence of such connections."

"I'll need more than just your word to ensure his innocence." Megatron let the thumb of his other servo stroke the mouth of his cannon's barrel. Red optics were half-shuttered with quiet thought. "Show me...," the warlord continued slowly. His faceplates were neutral; nothing belied his intentions. "If you are certain of his loyalty, Soundwave, then prove to me why I should spare his life and allow him on my ship."

The blue mech lifted his helm sharply, servos clenching nervously at his sides. Starscream, eager to watch Tracks die, turned his attention back to the front. The slag-eating grin he wore was enough to make Soundwave want to rip the blasted air commander's wings off. Surprisingly though, it wasn't the communications officer who made the first move. Tracks stepped out from around the Decepticon, walking a couple steps toward Megatron. His wings were twitching faintly with nerves, but he did not let such emotions cross his faceplates as he looked up at the tyrant.

"I... do not believe in anything that you're doing, and certainly I will never claim to be one of your soldiers," the corvette started bravely, "But I'm sure that even a mech such as yourself can think up more than several ways that a simple, enemy civilian can be put to use."

His bit said, Tracks turned back around and walked until he was pede-to-pede with Soundwave. "Don't look so concerned, love," the Autobot whispered gently. "It's most unbecoming of you. I do know what I'm doing."

Slowly, the multi-coloured mech lowered himself to his knee-joints, resting his servos on the Decepticon's hips. Starscream went to hiss something from behind, but Megatron only raised his fusion cannon slightly, immediately silencing the jet. Frowning, the SIC was forced to watch Tracks begin to nuzzle the communications officer's codpiece.

Soundwave didn't know exactly what was going on. He was vaguely aware of his Leader's optics fixed intently on him and Tracks -could even register the air commander's snort of disgust faintly- but all of his attention was glued to the corvette sitting at his feet. Those gorgeous cheekplates were rubbing along his pelvic plating affectionately, lip components brushing the softest of kisses to the metal. His engines rumbled lowly within his chassis, steam beginning to seep from armour seams, as the Decepticon recalled blissful nights with that handsome mouth. Catching gazes with Tracks for an astrosecond, Soundwave found himself struggling to remain indifferent -the look of lust and longing reflected in the Autobot's optics threatened to make him lose control.

But they were in the command deck, before Megatron himself!

Just what was Tracks doing?!

Soundwave hissed as the corvette nipped heatedly at his codpiece, demanding that the metal be retracted and himself granted entrance. The communications officer only contemplated fighting back for a nanoklik longer, before succumbing to the multi-coloured mech's temptations and revealing his interface equipment to the room.

Tracks only let his lover's pressurized spike be seen for a klik; long enough to trail the length of the cable a few times with his glossa, making sure that his audience saw clearly its size and girth. Pleased with the silence of their viewers, the Autobot quickly opened his mouth, swallowing the spike. Soundwave released a low groan, one servo launching upwards and gripping Tracks' tightly behind the helm. For a moment, the blue mech looked up away from the corvette as a means to distract himself from the hot glossa sliding around the underside of his length. He was stunned to be reminded of Megatron and Starscream just on the podium before him; the calculative look of his leader forced Soundwave to return his attention to Tracks.

His spark felt as if it was leaping from his spark casing upon looking down again. The corvette, lip components spread around his cable, was staring back up at the communications officer, nothing but desire and love burning behind those glasses. It was a look that sent Soundwave's systems roaring with passion, servo pushing hard on the back of Tracks' helm; forcing the Autobot to swallow more of him down.

The multi-coloured mech only gagged for an astrosecond, before his throat cables relaxed allowing the head of the thicker 'bot's spike to slip to the back of his throat, his servos gripping the Decepticon's hips tightly as he then set into a furious bob. Soundwave's servo kept Tracks from going very far, but the sensation was wonderful all the same. The corvette kept his lip components latched firmly around the communications officer's spike, while his cheeks hollowed around it and his glossa attacked the length from within. Warnings were flashing before Soundwave's visor not too long after, informing him of red-lining systems and overworked fans.

The Decepticon did not care. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Autobot still, circuits charging the more he watched Tracks suck on his spike; feeling throat cables clench around his tip, glossa attempting to slide across every available surface in between the base and head. And those optics... They continued to stay locked with Soundwave's, the blue light dimming as lust began to overwhelm everything else. Tracks was getting so charged simply sucking him off. Primus, the notion only further escalated the blue mech's pleasure.

With a sudden grunt, he overloaded, vision and motor functions shutting down for a klik. Intakes coming in heavily as they attempted to cool his overheated systems down, Soundwave onlined his optics, seeing Tracks at his feet still. The corvette was swallowing back the transfluid that filled his mouth, cheekplates flush with boiled energon. The sight threatened to charge Soundwave once more, and he quickly tucked away his spike, letting his codpiece slide back into place. The Autobot did not seem perturbed from having his prize taken away from him; Tracks instead, settled for licking at the beads of lubricant and transfluid that had slipped out along his partner's thighs. On his own frame, lubricant rolled in slow, thick beads down the back of his thighs.

"Figures," Starscream spoke up again. The jet's tone was a cruel snicker. "The scum is worth nothing more than that of a pleasure 'bot."

Tracks' only answer was to look back over a wing, licking traces of transfluid and oil from his lip components teasingly. His glance was mocking in and of itself, and Starscream bristled at the silent taunt. Megatron caught wind of his air commander's rage though, and once more interrupted before things could get out of hand.

If there was one thing the tyrant hated dealing with, it was young, pompous and vain mechs.

"Hold your glossa, Starscream, or I shall find someone to hold it for you." The cold, low threat shut the flyer up quickly, and Starscream sneered at the warlord in response.

"So be it, _Lord Megatron_ ," the SIC bowed over-dramatically, before he turned and stormed down from the podium. Tracks watched the mech go, optics narrowed on the jet's wings as he left the room. Once he was sure that Starscream was not coming back, the corvette turned his attention to the Decepticon studying him still.

Megatron's sparkless gaze roved across his chassis, and the warlord hummed quietly in contemplation. Finally, after a long, torturous klik, the helicopter lifted his optics to Soundwave. "It would not seem fair to ignore the efforts of my most faithful... Very well, Soundwave, you have proved his worth," the Decepticon rose to his pedes, standing, a statue of authority above the two other mechs. "You may keep your pet. But keep him in line. Should he do something out of place, you will be punished along with him."

"Warning: Unnecessary," Soundwave replied. The communications officer tried not to smile, aware that his commander could read him better than most other mechs. Sometimes even better than Tracks could...

Inclining his helm slightly in acknowledgement, Megatron gestured for the door. "You can leave now, Soundwave. I'm sure you'll want to tend to your pet now."

The blue mech had a difficult time not to simple yank Tracks to his pedes and bolt from the command deck. Megatron was known to change his mind quite rapidly sometimes, and the Decepticon did not wish to have his privilege revoked from him too soon. But the communications officer managed to hold himself calmly, grasping the Autobot by the elbow and pulling him to his pedes. Keeping a firm grip on Tracks still, Soundwave headed for the door; the corvette tripped along behind, gnawing on his lip components.

Only when they were out in the hallway, the command deck doors closed behind them, did Soundwave turn his attention to the multi-coloured mech. "Inquiry: what is problem?"

Tracks replied by lunging for the Decepticon, arms winding about the other's neck cables, lips desperately pressing against the thicker mech's mouth guard. "P-primus," the Autobot moaned, grinding hard against Soundwave. "Watching you overload gets me _so charged_ , and you have the audacity to ask me 'what's wrong?' I need you inside me, now... p-please, Big boy, fill me up, w-won't you?"

Soundwave could feel heat sinking into his pistons again; circuitry crackling as another charge began building in his systems. This was his Tracks alright, the very mech that he had fallen for completely -spark and all. And now they could remain together. Silently, the Decepticon lifted the corvette up into his arms, retracting his mask so they could kiss. With lip components melded together hungrily, Soundwave hurried off to their new quarters; to sanctify the new room in the one way that the two mechs knew how to best.


End file.
